The Backwater Gospel
by Batya000
Summary: Two words. Batshit crazy.
1. Chapter 1

**AN/** It's starting off slow I guess, a little bit grey but this has lots of romance too loool its rated M :F who would have guessed right? loool I Hope you enjoy and don't find it as tedious? (Because of how it starts) I would love you to give it time and well read it slowly and all but meh, whatever is fine :D

Grammar, typos, spelling mistakes, I'm sorry, I want this out already lmao. It's from Jazz' POV. To be rightfully honest, the story wasn't planned to start here so this is the newest scene I've written for the story. However I hope it's well-explained and fits with the rest.

Enjoy!

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 **The Backwater Gospel**

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"Jazz." He nodded as I seated. "Please get comfortable."

"Thanks."

He smiled cordially at me, "It's good to see you." I didn't respond, my poise screeched irritation "I know things haven't gone as planned with the medications I last prescribed." He held the greenish papers up for his eyes and then placed them on his left "Today we'll revise your diagnosis and we will follow a new treatment."

I gasped uncooperatively, "A new diagnosis?" I frowned, "For real?"

"My deepest apologies as the professional I am, this case of yours was a little bit trickier than I initially expected."

"A little bit trickier?" I repeated, his words went beyond my indignation, "Is this for real?"

He sighed in overthrow, "I promised to help you, I'm aware of my mistakes as the provider of this."

"This isn't an itsy-bitsy mistake, what the fuck?" my scowl showed my disdain "For fucking starter's hell-doctor, I'm fucking done with this crap."

"Jazz," his tone remained serious, his façade didn't seem shocked at my outburst, "I'm really sorr-"

"Miss me with that bullshit!" I snapped. I was not-so-gradually getting distraught.

"Jazz, please, you need to calm do-"

"Relax a little?" I smirked mordantly, my wrath boiled as reasons popped, "This shit ain't tiring, Jeez no." I taunted sarcastically, he remained quiet as my brazen voice became louder, "I've not gone through enough shit fucking son of a bitch!"

"That's not what I'm trying to say," he unperturbedly said. "However I will ask you to calm down."

"Because you are fucking sorry? I've been a fucking martyr these last two months."

He dipped his head again, his voice was unshaken, "I'm aware of the complications, I'm aware of the secondary effects of the medications."

"You are aware." I repeated defiantly, "Therefore you are sorry you fucked me up."

"I apologi-"

"Your fucking apologies won't return my sleep," I growled, "They won't take away these intrusive thoughts that scare the shit out of me and they won't return my fucking energy, I'm absolutely drained, weak to the bone; I can't even open a fucking jar." I listed, brazenly fuming, I decided not to hold back "Your apologies won't take back those tests I failed because I couldn't concentrate enough, I'm in fucking college, I'm a fucking adult, I need my fucking brain to function and you've done nothing but fuck it up! Those shitty headaches, those cold-ass goosebumps at night."

I continued, aggravated to the core "You're apologies don't take a single shit from this, from all the shit I've gone through. If you are just as incompetent to change my diagnosis every two months then fucking leave this shit alone, as far as I knew I was absolutely okay before all this crap even started!"

"We won't leave this Jazz, this is important. You said so yourself, you need a healthy brain to function. I'll be more precise, I assure y-"

"Assure me fucking what? That this time it will work? That this time I won't vomit every fucking meal I try to digest? What the fuck is this? A cooking lab? Am I your unpaid tester?"

Dr. Wakaki allowed me to curse until I stopped to refrain my thoughts, he slowly interfered my bashing as I breathed in fumes "For the last time, you need to calm yourself Jazz or I'll leave this session for next Monday and I won't sign your attendance."

Tongue on teeth and before my sealed lips could open once more, I abruptly refrained myself, I closed my eyes and my hands went to the back of my neck as I breathed in. I heard him speak "I understand your desire to vent, but any emotional flux or volatility might further harm you." He waited patiently for me to remain quiet and then he proceeded, "I would also like to remind you that you are legally bounded to cooperate with me and thus far I've scarcely seen that, let alone I've grasped any interest from you."

"Oh it's my fault now? Fucking yes because I refused to take every fucking medications you prescribed me. No, don't mind me, I didn't do my fucking best to cooperate. " I was been acidly ironic.

"A misdiagnose in these odd cases is not that rare. Nothing will compensate the struggles you've faced but if we get to the right diagnosis and if it happens to be just-in-time then everything will be worth the fight."

 _"The fight,_ My fucking fight better say _"_ I laughed acrimoniously, I took another deep breath and then slumped against the couch; my hand dismissed the discussion altogether, "You know what? Whatever you fucking say. Go ahead."

He scribbled something down on his open folder and after a full-silent minute he finally commented "I'm aware that only two months ago I prescribed you a new medication and I also gave you a new diagnosis. I know it only worsened your condition. Today, like I said, I will revise the diagnosis, reconsider the prescription and will see if that's what we need for your improvement."

"Pff." I rolled up my eyes in annoyance.

"I will ask you to try to change your negative perspective and start seeing me as someone who can help you, if you let me help you."

I exhaled but his voice filled the silence once more "I've heavily respected your privacy throughout this process," he paused tentatively, "in my defense, I thought I was facing an illness I had figured out by experience, and I also thought that how I normatively treated said illness would be perfect for what I presumed you were experiencing."

He explained, "I simply saw no necessity in snooping through details of what you saw. This, as a professional is well- very unprofessional."

"What does that mean?"

"That I deeply apologize because regarding the illness, I know nothing about what you see, sense and hear. I diagnosed you while not prying much into your delusions."

" _Delusions."_ I scoffed.

"Yes." He asserted confidently.

I stared at my knuckles for a while, I waited for stillness to ask "…Didn't you say you misdiagnose me? Does that means I'm not schizophrenic… after all?"

"You are. But maybe not in the Paranoid spectrum as I contemplated."

I shrugged my shoulders fairmindedly, "Whatever."

"Mhm," he nodded, "Today Jazz, I will know who is this entity that your illness has led you to believe is in a romantic relationship with you."

…

"Aha. Does that mean I'll be able to sleep?"

He stared at me through his clear spectacles "We'll do our best."

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 **AN/** Won't comment further until the end of the story. Just to clear any possible doubt about the time: This Doctor 'Dr. Wakaki ' has been treating him since 6 months ago, the last 'diagnose change' he did was two months ago. Meaning he- _at least,_ changed Jazz' diagnose twice already.

The title was taken from a short animation that has nothing to do with it or the plot or nothing, I'll comment on this later.


	2. Chapter 2

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My psychiatrist reached for a binder on the backside of his chair, after scrutinizing through some papers, his eyes peered to read through the small letters and once he muttered some words to himself, he finally unremitted to ask. "How palpable is it?" He stared taciturnly at me, somehow beneath the professionalism, the man was impending to eviscerate every word that slipped through my lips, "Is this entity something you can touch, as in put your hand on?"

I slowly nodded.

"Mm," he mumbled after writing something on his pad, "Is it easy to get a physical grasp on?"

I nodded almost distantly.

"Are the approaches always incited from your side? If there are any bodily approaches at all."

I stopped and looked vaguely at him; that was one stupid question. After a minute of hesitation, I moved my head in negative.

"But you do at least ignite a portion of these?"

I shrugged.

"You don't know?" he looked expectedly at me, his tone was reserved, stoical and not at all distressed.

I shrugged disinterestedly again. My eyes focused on the adjacent window instead, I wondered if I let my home's window open.

"Do you ask him to touch you?"

My attention snapped back at him, after considering the absently-heard question, I permitted myself to nod.

"What I want you to specify is if this situation is mutual and consensual? Would you say that?" He straightened his pose, and as if I needed to be spoken gradually, he repeated "Is it consensual Jazz?"

I moved my head 'Yes.' My gaze shrieked exasperation, I was absolutely annoyed.

"So this entity's approaches aren't something you'd classify as unwanted?"

I stopped to revise his words and almost scowled at him, the way he classified him bothered me further than words could convey.

He proceeded, "I mean Jazz- is this entity's presence anywhere close to an 'intrusive thought'? You know what intrusive thoughts are and how they feel like, you started experiencing those since two months now… Would you put this entity aside or anywhere near the negativity and the lack of control that comes with intrusiveness?"

He finished his question, "Is this entity an intruder?"

"No…" I mumbled.

"Come again?"

My weary gaze engrossed briefly on him "I do welcome him."

"Means there are in fact- _physical_ encounters between you and this entit-"

"Aksel."

My therapist adjusted his cumbersome glasses, "Pardon me, what did you just say?"

"His name is Aksel."

He nodded slowly, as if he was trying to convey sense to what a mentally disabled had to say, "My apologies, let's continue," he went on with his inquire, "-there is a committed situation in which you and this entity are consent to have developed a relationship, hence I assume this entity is physically tangible and pretty much… humanoid?"

I scoffed, undeniably vexed, "I mean… he's real so…"

"I haven't yet said he isn't."

"You implied it," I hissed, "Wording-wise."

"I didn't. Perhaps your awareness of reality lacks his presence and at best- you are afraid to recognize it."

"Now you are not merely implying it. You are straight-up stating it."

He pursed his lips to the side and then he nodded, it was more of an unbiased gesture that served for peacefulness through the strain "We won't go there just yet, I need you to tell me more about it" He placed his hands up as calmly as he could "So, don't stress yourself, we are just starting."

I huffed quietly, "What do you want to know about him?"

He wrote something on his notepad again, "Tell me about his overall behavior; tell me how linear it looks to you?"

"Linear?" I asked confused, "You mean if his behavior is…-"

"Defined." He clarified, "Or is him always unpredictable to you?"

"I could easily paint him."

"That means he has a well-defined personality."

"That's what I like the most about him." I lightly smiled.

My therapist nodded, mostly unmoved by the foretold insight, "Would you say this linear character and or behavior of his, is anywhere close in similarity to yours?"

"More or less," I confessed, "we do agree in a whole lot of shit but we differ in many other random stuff."

"Random stuff, is that what you two usually talk about?"

"It will depend on our mood."

His already wrinkled forehead creased and repeated as he wrote "Depends on it." He cleared his clogged throat, "Did you ever notice if he knew things about you that you never commented with or to him before?"

"No," I moved my head, "whatever he knows about me is because I actually told him." I explained.

The scrabbling sound of his pencil against his papers distracted me, "I see. Can we speak about the corporeality in your encounters with him?"

"You say so as if you can't believe I can actually touch my boyfriend's skin."

He dismissed my observation altogether, "Tell me whether he has ever displayed violent or aggressive behavior- verbal and or physical- including circumstantial or what you would consider as justifiable aggression towards you."

"He hasn't."

"Not even slightly?"

I sighed, "Not at all…"

"Is it mutual?"

"What, the lack of aggression type of treatment?"

"Pardon me," he corrected, "I'll recompose my question." I stood silent, "Are _you_ aggressive with him? Same inquiries from the last question."

My lips pursed in unwillingness, "I am way more aggressive towards him."

"Why is that?"

I hesitated, "He never sleeps with me…" I started braiding one of my hair locks, "I get upset but there are like… other times where I just snap at him but that'll be lightheartedly."

"Lightheartedly," he reiterated my words almost probingly.

"Um" I paused, "I mean… he jokes around too often and it's not like I'm always hostile. Just a tad bit annoyed… Like if I snap at him and I punch him it's not because I want to hurt him… I don't know… he teases me and stresses m-"

"But you wouldn't deem it as abusive."

"No…" I felt troubled by my own words.

"You don't mean it in an abusive way. That's what you are trying to tell me."

I grazed my index' nail against my knee, "Yeah I don't…"

"What about him?"

"Huh?"

"Does he consider it as abusive?"

"Well…" I frowned, "He says I'm too aggressive because I do that and he might even push me too hard with those comments but I don't think he genuinely feels oppressed by me," I stopped to bite my inner cheek, "all in all it's because he calls me fucking names that I do that."

"What names?"

"Chinchilla."

He reached for his white mug, he sipped slowly from it and then he breathed in "The authenticity and normality of your relationship is what concerns me Jazz, I'm going to go further with other questions regarding your relationship with Aksel, is that alright? You may pass some questions if they go beyond your self-respect."

I wordlessly agreed.

"What kind of physical encounters do you experience with him? How are they? Would you mind describing them to me?"

I moved my head in negative. I was not going to do such an embarrassing deed.

"You don't want to specify?"

I stayed noiseless until he grabbed the hint, he proceeded "would you be more comfortable if I asked you interview-like rather than you story-telling me?"

As if he wasn't doing that already, I moved my head 'yes.' He stood up "Provide me a minute then." He walked all the way through the back of the mini therapy's office space to his own large desk. Opening the bottom's drawer and roaming through every god-forsaken folder felt thickly slow to me. I yawned and waited until he finally came back with a thickly packed folder under his armpit.

He seated across me and opened the grey binder, he adjusted his spectacles and read the first papers. Once he finished, his eyes concentrated back on me. "Would you say you have sex with him?"

I looked vacantly but nodded, the question didn't surprise me at all.

"Do you kiss him?"

I deferred to answer but I finally nodded. He long-stared at me and then went back to focus on the papers he upheld, I was hoping it was strictly professional to be _that_ obnoxiously nosey.

"Does he display affection or aggression in your intimacy?"

"Pass."

He nodded and passed to the next question, "Understanding the normative of a stable relationship, do you consider your relationship with Aksel as a committed, loving one or more of the recurrent casual and romanceless type?"

"Didn't I say he was my boyfriend?"

"Regarding Aksel, when you are with him, can you assert if you have felt the sensation of another living being's skin against yours?"

"Of course."

"Are there roles you have assumed with him, is there any participatory agreement?"

I stopped confused, "Elaborate?"

"Sexually speaking," I rolled up my eyes in irritation and loudly exhaled, "Do you endow him the power of penetration or do _you_ have it?"

I snorted bemused "Big pass."

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	3. Chapter 3

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"Sexually speaking," I rolled up my eyes in irritation and loudly exhaled, "Do you endow him the power of penetration or do _you_ have it?"

I snorted bemused "Big pass."

"I require this question to be answered regardless the boundaries we've allowed for your comfortability. This has to do with how my verdict may change for your diagnosis, as well as further benefit to the recovery."

I was pissed.

"He fucks my ass nice and good," I crossed my arms over my chest, "there you have it." I snarled insolently.

He wasn't surprised, "Any particular reason you've given up this presumed power-clout to him?"

I enthused my head in disagreement, "…Nah." I calmed myself, "It's for how the prostate works."

"Have you switched this role?"

I moved my head 'No.'

"Have you wished for a change and notwithstanding, do you consider the act of penetration as some type of control over you?"

"No and nope."

"Is this a role he suggested you'd take or is this a role you automatically took and assumed?"

"No, I did."

"Do you think he would be comfortable if you ever switched?"

"No. Plus I wouldn't be interested."

"He has this strong personality then." He almost spoke to himself.

My eyebrow raised, I was becoming tense "What was the question?"

"I'm sorry," he rearranged the papers upfront, "Is this a boundary both are comfortable with?"

"Aha, pretty much."

He examined a paper that was on the back of the stack and reached for a new folder on his left, we stood silent for a minute or two when he looked me dead in the eyes and asked, "Are you _absolutely-"_ he emphasized, "-comfortable with the sexual role you play in your…" he hesitated, "-Relationship?"

"I am."

"Would you say this role is a mismatch for who's actually dominant in the relationship?"

My lips pursed in thought, "I wouldn't."

"It means he is more dominant than you?"

I moved my right hand in a 'more or less' motion.

"Do you think you are submissive?"

"Same question?"

"Different nature, more specifically, and since you didn't seem to grasp on the idea of my last question, I will elaborate again;"

"Sure."

" _Personality-wise_ , are you submissive whether this is in behavior or in character when it comes to his resolutions, dispositions and or beliefs?"

My finger twirled a strand of wine colored hair around it, I moved my head 'No.'

"You are only submissive when it's sexual?"

"Mhm." I was jaded.

"Going back to personality," he wasn't even looking at me, his fingers roamed in different sheets as he asked, "Has he expressed openly the aforementioned aspects of himself to you?"

I gave it a thought and ultimately responded frankly "He has."

"Has any of these opinions from him affected how you viewed certain aspects?"

"Like in every close and intimate relationship with someone I guess. Their opinion weights over every matter."

"Further expand."

"…Like in a conversation, specially, like I said before, with someone you cherish dearly, you exchange ideas and though sometimes contrary, conflicting or opposing, I guess with enough argument and some valid perspective, your opinion may end up diverging or at least flexing in favor of the other's idea." I shrugged feebly, "But that's just the standard of basic human interaction right doc?"

"Correct."

"It doesn't mean we are too different or too alike each other, at least _that_ doesn't predict it. However out of certain debatable topics, I wouldn't say he is not like me in many things, because I guess he is."

He serenely reclined on his seat as he listened, once I finished he didn't waste time to probe "Out of extrapolated ideas. Can you tell me if your opinion on weighty topics are often too polarized from what he has to induce, debate or differ?"

"Not usually."

"Would you say he is very alike you."

"Yeah, I would. I said it before."

"Okay," he closed one folder, "What do you do in unbendable disagreements on what you both classify as 'weighty' matters?"

I saw his inquisitiveness behind the question, "We agree to disagree."

The calming sound of his pendulum resided until he was ready to ask again "In what topics do you usually differ your opinion from his?"

With that question I indubitably dithered, "He doesn't give life much value."

His eyes suddenly appeared staggered; though his façade remained composed, he wrote something down on his notepad and then his eyes fixated concernedly on me "Does he tell you to harm someone? Has he ever told or suggested you to harm yourself?"

I snorted raucously diverted, "God no," I snickered, "that's a mere bias alongside some shit he's done, plus" I sneered, "It's not like I would tell you, so don't even ask."

"Tell me, exactly what?"

"This cognitive therapy isn't about what my man does…" I tapped my fingers against my knee, "It's about me and I don't presume I'm wrong."

"If some information of his is of vital importance for the final diagnosis I would ask you to entrust me-"

"Fuck the diagnosis," I offered scornfully, "that's a boundary I'll put right there, no threshold close either."

He sighed, "Advocating for his-" he paused, "-privacy when some of his ostensible behavior might be potentially harmful for your mental stability isn't something that should be up to closeted choice. I want to help you."

"What behavior and what harmful," I defended, "I hinted for the laughs, I am not going to tell my therapist about his secrets."

He lounged in his seat and placed his notepad on his lap, "I won't cross what boundaries you've placed." I nodded in agreement, "But I do want you to expand on some subjects that may be of my interest for this session."

He went on, "You might understand if some of these subjects subvert into secrecy but for the love of god, I only intend to help you."

"I simply won't say." I tempered. "I can also lie if you don't leave it."

Another minute of silence passed and he nodded, "Alright then, remember you will tell me only what you want me to know, as well as being conscious that it is _you_ who need the diagnosis to continue your life as healthy as it used to be."

"…"

"I would love to help you still."

I remained silent until a full minute of tenseness engrossed us both "Alright, but not about his past or what he goes through."

My therapist's wrinkled mouth uplifted in triumph, "Alright, shall we continue?"

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	4. Chapter 4

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I remained silent until a full minute of tenseness engrossed us both "Alright, but not about his past or what he goes through."

My therapist's wrinkled mouth uplifted in triumph, "Alright, shall we continue?"

I took a long intake of breath but finally agreed. He allowed three minutes of sheer silence until I felt comfortable with his presence all over again, his hand moved to offer one of the plastic bottles of water over the counter. Opening the cap never felt as stressful, the medicine was quickly debilitating my limbs and ignoring he was reaching to aid me with it, didn't make it less nerve-racking.

Blithely fed up, I handed the bottle over. He gave it back once it was open but I didn't bother drinking from it, less thanking about it. I left it in front of me and stared at my black boots instead. "Is it okay if I ask now?"

"…Yeah."

He nodded carefully, he grabbed yet another brown folder that laid the entire time in the coffee table between us and he opened it before his own inspecting eyes "How do you tell him you want sex?"

I tsked, "Didn't you ask me enough about sex?" he was stone serious when I eyed him.

"There are actually," His voice was contemplative, "Let's see" he whistled wearily, "Many, many things I will have to ask you about your sexual activity with him."

"…Ah."

"In fact," he squinted his eyes as he read something, "Very specific questions, even things that you'll deem as profoundly uncomfortable to speak about so I apologize beforehand."

I rolled up my eyes yet again, "…'kay, but why are you so curious about it?"

"I can't speak with you about it yet."

I huffed, "…'aight." I offered nonchalantly, "Later?"

He closed the folder, "Once we render in associative therapy, yes. As well as I'm suspecting some of the perceptible aspects may be merely neurological, well-" he arranged his collarbone's rumple "that'll depend on your answers and more medical examination."

"Oh," I slumped on the couch and scratched my knee, it was starting to become a tick "…you are straight up calling me insane."

He chuckled, "Of course not-"

"Well, you want to see if my sensorial senses are fucked up and if you think I sense someone that isn't there and depending on how far I've gone with him, you'll call for utter insanity and even neurological crap and you'll send me to an asylum," I larked bitterly, "Pfff, that according to your own words." I was starting to get upset with his irrational denial that Aksel existed. I stood up.

"Right now Aksel is real." His words surprised and stopped me from fleeing, "I know he is." My left eyebrow raised, "I want to know more about him, let's leave anything else aside for a while okay?"

He was being condescending and it bothered me "Okay…" I sat again.

"Thank you Jazz," He smiled "what I want to know if this person you say you are involved with- Aksel, is simply a being that's merely- there for sexual arousal or there are previous and forecasted conversations or other behaviors that reinforce or conduct to this activities?"

"No," I straightened my sitting pose, "We speak, we joke around, we- you know hang out then sometimes it gets very hot and… well."

He made a circular motion with his hand, "What I need to know is how we revolve around this activity- most specifically, how do you ask or approach to him when you want to engage in this kind of activit-"

"With my mouth what else?" I had the idea that he asked the same, exact question _twice_ before.

My therapist laughed not too amused, "Eye-contact, telepathy, verbally, physically, gestures, you explain. Correct me if you or he won't ask for this."

"Well doc, I touch his wee-wee, if that isn't how people normally do the dirty then I don't know." I was overall annoyed by the invasive questions.

He smiled again, I bet he felt sarcastic at the bold usage of the word 'normal', "You said there was penetration, is it painful?"

"He's big but we prep and stuff…"

"Is there foreplay?" I initially expected my bold answers would scare him from meddling in too insistently.

"Mostly finger-fuck."

But I was, as always, wrong.

"Can you assert if there is a sensation you feel when he penetrates you?" he spoke to me with enthralled eyes, as he was trying to convince me with his questions in almost a rhetorically way, that I made absolutely no-sense. "Whether it's his fingers or his genitals" I could tell his expression changed from inquisitiveness to hefty concern.

I stood quiet for a while "I assert."

I looked at the bottle of water this time, feeling uncomfortable was an underestimation of the horrid trembles in my stomach, I felt nauseous.

"Do you have orgasms?" I closed my eyes and prayed for him to be gone, "More intimately and I apologize but I need to know this, do you experience orgasms caused only by the fondling and or prostate stimulation?"

"Aha." I nodded, my eyes were still closed "I do."

"You are a hundred percent honest when you assert me it is not _you_ who drives you _alone_ to these sexual releases?"

"I mean," I opened my eyes for credibility, "Of fucking course -yes."

I simply wasn't lying.

"So yes, you can assert me you have sex with this entit- Aksel?"

"Yeah, with Aksel." I crossed my legs, my attitude wasn't less mordant "I've said so before."

"Would you say there is love between you two?"

"A hell lot." I pursed my lips in frustration. "A hell fucking lot."

"Would you say then there is affection?"

"Mhm."

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	5. Chapter 5

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"Would you say there is love between you two?"

"A hell lot." I pursed my lips in frustration. "A hell fucking lot."

"Would you say then there is affection?"

"Mhm."

Redundant and slightly morbid, that's what it felt like hearing him fulfill his sickly curiosity and doctorate egocentric self-entitlement, one that could only reach its peak by dichotomizing an ill person's psyche to predictable and treatable generic measures.

"Is there communication between you two?"

"There is." I thought I stated the obvious. I not all-so-unexpectedly felt helpless with him.

"How often do you speak?"

…

My crossed leg took its original posture "We speak even when we are not speaking."

He raised his eyebrows "Could you elaborate, please?"

I exhaled drowsily, "Like I am making him eyes right now, he doesn't like you."

"Is he saying something right now?"

Aksel frowned.

"Nah he is just like…" my tongue stumbled to find the correct word, "annoyed."

"Why is he annoyed?"

"You are asking me shit that's between us."

He squinted his eyes at me and then smiled "Maybe that is your way to tell me you are more uncomfortable that you are showing. Maybe this 'Aksel' is your internalized thoughts? Thoughts that mender quietly within you."

"He is not, he's literally vexed. I am not." I pointed at him, "Like turn around?"

"Are you aware I can't see him and that's probably a red flag?"

"Like yeah but I can totally tell I'll forget that you can't see him once we go back home to make love. I don't even care if you see him or not."

My therapist assented not at all surprised "How often do you forget vital information such as what we conclude in therapy?"

"It was sort of sarcasm?" I sassed defensively, "You never grasp the obvious. I don't want to think I could remember it anyways?"

"So it means you forget selectively, would you say that?"

"No? But it may hurt us."

He stopped tentatively.

"You mean if it hurt your relationship with Aksel?"

I felt suddenly caged.

"I…" my tongue felt tied, something felt very wrong, "I don't know?" Do I forget things selectively?

"Is that a yes Mr. Nakura?"

"First off, wrong use of my surname, second that's a perhaps…" I derided evasively, "Like I would never ever chose to forget him."

"When you get talked to understand he is unreal, does he diffuses or becomes intangible for a second? Does he stop speaking, do you stop seeing him?"

"No I don't think so. Sides… he is real" I grimaced, the last three words were barely muttered. Aksel crossed his arms and stared back at me.

"Have you tried that?"

"Hell no," I frowned, "I would die if I lost him, I'd rather die."

"Why is that?"

"Because I love him?"

He nodded, very slowly, "But how often do you recognize he is not real." _Have I betrayed Aksel by saying he is not real? When did I- spurt such nonsense?_

"He is. I never said he wasn't real," I fumed impatiently, "I just told you all about him."

He sighed ever so silently, "Yes Jazz, you did tell me about him, but do you realize we are speaking about someone that's not… real?"

"He is real!" I enraged, "I thought you said he was real when you wanted to know how we fucked." I was unequivocally aggravated. "You said he was real."

"To progress."

"You said he was real, you believed me, otherwise I wouldn't have said a shit about us."

"I told you-" his tone sounded too attentive, it itched me the wrong way, "-that I wanted to hear about him to progress with your diagnosis and help you."

"Fuck you and fuck that!" I felt infuriated, "this isn't helping at all, you are just frustrating me." My mind started getting clogged.

" _Jaaz~ leave that fuckhead and let's go home."_

"That's exactly what I'll fucking do," I responded to Aksel aloud, "Let's go."

"Please, wait Mr. Nakura there are a couple of th12345677789089000 throw yourself off a cliff."

" _Jaaz~"_

"hehehe next time you go past a deep frying pan you'll stick your hands right in the hot oil."

" _It wasn't me Jaaz~"_

"Shut up." I growled. "Not the time, it's not the time right now."

"878777777 Mr. Nakura, are you okay? 77 the quickest metro from Japan is the shinkansen."

" _Chinchilla, let's go home I'm booored~"_

"What did you say Dr.? Aksel be quiet?" I wanted to vomit and scream at the same time.

"Mr. Nakura, are you hearing someth777 that's the luckiest number, fuck the middle aged crisis, this man wants to rape you."

" _Jaaz~ I will leave."_

"No shit, wait." I felt my heart rhythm increase in dreadfulness, I knew someone I didn't know was behind me.

"The man without eyes is watching. Mr. Nakura everything will be fine 44 roads, breathe out with me. Everyone's upset."

" _Chinchilla~"_

I heard a somber chorus chanting behind us.

"Agh shit." I yelped, "Be quiet for fuck's sake."

Silence, suddenly it all fell dead silent.

…

…

"Right r-right," I shook my head, my bottom lip was quivering, my heart felt as if it was a second behind a stroke "w-what did you say?"

He waited patiently for 5 minutes straight, I breathed in and out as the anxiety of the noise started going off, I reached for the bottle of water and sipped clumsily from it even after it splashed all over my shirt, I noticed Aksel wasn't there anymore, I knew I might have missed the second he left, "that was an auditory dread outbreak, this interview caused a lot of stress on you, but fear not I had the situation under close control. Would you rather take a break?"

I finally focused on my psychiatrist "Uh… no…"

"Is it quieter right now?"

"Yeah… That was fast but super scary…" I almost whispered, "What was that?"

"Stress induced noise delusion. Nothing to be afraid of, will happen for 2 to 4 minutes in cases of deep frustration, the pills I will prescribe will lessen these symptoms in 2 to 3 weeks of usage. I will recommend to avoid getting hassled or stressed. When noise starts to overpower your conscious you can try breathing in spans of 20 seconds each exhale."

"…Will that make them go away?" I questioned fearfully, "I mean… the irritating noises?"

"In some cases." He affirmed, "Remember it's usually caused by stress, other times it may be caused by outbursts of anger."

"Is it because of my illness right…"

"It is and to further help you with that I need your entire honesty and to go on with some questions."

I heaved a sigh, "Okay."

"Are you sure you don't want to take a break? Of course I won't charge for the extra time, I don't want to push you too hard in case this will further affect your stability until I have the entire control of the situation."

I moved my head in negative, I felt a little bit relieved he wanted to take care of it "it's okay, we can continue."

.

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	6. Chapter 6

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"Are you sure you don't want to take a break? Of course I won't charge for the extra time, I don't want to push you too hard in case this will further affect your stability until I have the entire control of the situation."

I moved my head in negative, I felt a little bit relieved he wanted to take care of it "it's okay, we can continue."

"Alright," he gave me a candy bar taken from one of the bowls over the counter, he also handed me another bottle of water, not before opening it for me. "I think that when I interviewed you, you became a little too aware that he was just a product of your imagination and even suggested that you'd rather stay sick than revealing in health he does not exist."

"I… don't remember that?"

"I mentioned earlier that I can't see him and the sole cause of this interview was partially because I might as well diagnose you psychotic schizophrenia rather than paranoid, it is to note that I'm starting to think it's a dissociative discrepancy in the schizophrenic spectrum. You are just experiencing chronic auditory and visual hallucinations that are dangerous to your stability Jazz. Aksel is not real."

"Why would you sputter crap I don't understand, that's technique bullshit only you old-asses understand." I frowned, "You also said you didn't want to upset me and yet you are back with the 'Aksel is not real' bullshit."

"No, I told you not to stress yourself, don't let yourself get too stressed, I meant. You need to control your temper for your own wellbeing." He pointed at his recorder, "Also it's been recorded so I must follow professional protocol. I have to reason my diagnosis before signing it to your medical history. Even if you don't understand what I say."

"Whatever. What does it means? Do you want to convince me that the man I'm living with is half real?"

"Not in half. I am not here to convince you about anything. I know these delusions are not a confusion open to clarification. You never chose to believe them. An assertive diagnosis will inherently explain your condition's process thoughts, it will open solutions and will progressively elucidate your mental illness' headway. Medication will aid greatly if we are persistent."

"Yuck."

"Side note, you didn't tell me you considered you were living as in a conjugal union with- Aksel."

"You didn't ask."

"We can extend this session for 15 minutes."

"No," I snorted "I think I want this session to be finished."

…

"It's fine," he said after a long pause, "we did greatly today young man. When you leave I'll finish the voice record as a part of the aforementioned protocol."

I stared silently.

"I don't expect you to understand what I explained at the end just yet, so we can leave it here." He continued as he paused the recording for a minute, "As per today Jazz, take the medication with the green cap after every meal and don't forget to meditate, that helps greatly," he signed some permits and then he focused back on me "Here take the prescription." He handed me a white paper, "Go to my reception and hand it over to any lady in white you see, they'll prepare your newly prescribed pills. Ask for Mrs. Nakoto, you know her already."

"Are those different from the last time?"

"Slightly," he squinted his eyes, "Your last diagnosis- coming with the prior record- concluded you required a pill focused of auditory deliriums and agitation but since I could further explore your needs today, I will replace the Haloperidol with Thorazin which is a strong antipsychotic, it is anti-hallucinatory as well as a strong sedative without inducing sleepiness- but that doesn't mean you won't sleep when you have to. Of course it has Chlorpromazine components and what other wonders." He smiled, "You tell me how you feel later."

"Side effects?"

"Nothing too extreme," he assured.

I stood up and immediately stormed off. He turned the tape recorder once I left the room. I could have meandered outside to listen to what he had to say but Aksel was too impatient, he was outside and I asked him why he left the session that suddenly. I looked at my phone for the hour and understood it was a good hour to leave, 6:40 pm. I grabbed my pills at the reception and then we went back home.

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	7. Chapter 7

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"Thursday 22, 6:40 pm, Dr. Wakaki with Nakura Jazz as a patient. DPhil integer is 455-75. The patient just left. I detected the continuity and perpetuity of the aforesaid signs for a full diagnosis. The patient was last diagnosed with Paranoid schizophrenia and we followed treatment for the last two months, which I conclude now was a complete failure. The pills were depriving the patient from sleeping as he used to and it's provoking intrusive thoughts, both symptoms are new. I have decided to suspend the last medication, Haloperidol."

"It is to note that the patient is not showing preoccupation for persecution. There are no voices telling him to harm others or himself. I concluded that the diagnosis was erroneous."

"Today his diagnose was re-evalued and replaced by the notorious and alarming aspects that served key for a more asserted diagnosis. _Psychotic Schizophrenia_. Which covers more assertively his hallucinations. The patient can hear, touch and taste an incorporeal being. It is also to note it only happens about _one_ sole character. This character he has created is linear and not inconsistent."

"There might be neurological damage that could alter his perceptions, this option is more likely debunked by cognitive therapy." He sighed, "As recorded, there are auditory, visual and tactual hallucinations. Selective memory as a cognitive dysfunction that may have been present the whole time. I discard dementia for today. I also discard biological pathogens."

"A shortfall in the hypothalamus, the epithalamus, the mammillary body might be the cause of the short memory regarding certain and selected issues but it would not explain the consistent delusion. If I'm correct, these facets can be also correlated to the illness."

"Just to follow the medical decorum, we might need a cranial ultrasound later on. The session is up for next Monday at 5:40 pm. Notes to self, the patient insist in having sex with a nonexistent entity. Just one. One identified entity."

"The patient had a dissonant as well as an auditory stress-induced breakage through the middle of the session. I have concluded it was caused by the medication used to treat his misdiagnosis. I chose to tell the patient it was _solely_ caused on stress."

"The patient is showing a strange type of schizophrenia but regardless he will not be re-diagnosed with any personality disorder."

Dr. Yomaho, who had being hearing after Jazz left to Dr. Wakaki soliloquist recording, felt absolutely enthralled with the information at hand. After hearing the final statement he finally decided to inquire his doubts to his older colleague, "Why would you regard it as a 'strange type of schizophrenia'? If I may butt in, I would say that while it's true that it may not be in the paranoid-range, it may be for sure- _psychotic_. Especially if he is looking things that aren't there as well as believing things that aren't true."

Dr. Wakaki turned the recording off and as if he already knew he had an uncalled spectator, he didn't lift his gaze, "Wrong. Jazz isn't merely 'looking at things that aren't there'. He is missing the whole symptoms. He isn't hearing unrelenting voices, he isn't hearing people say things they didn't say. He isn't mixing up his words, he isn't spurting non-sense, his thinking process isn't confused, he doesn't feel he is chosen by any deity."

He continued after clutching his brown binder up, "What I'm trying to say is that he is simply not showing full signs of schizophrenia. He isn't paranoid, he is not moving oddly, his words aren't jumbled, he isn't losing lucidity and I've been treating him for 6 months now."

"Six months? And you worry about this- 'Aksel' just now?"

"I tried treating the illness as a whole," this time he lifted his eyes at his coworker "it's not that I worry up until now, It's that I recently realized Aksel wasn't a _mere_ auditory hallucination, unlike the passerby allusion, Aksel appeared in his head to _stay_ , and that was admittedly unpredictable."

Dr. Yomaho crossed his arms over his chest, "How did you even think it was inside the paranoid range?"

"Jazz didn't speak anything about what he was actually experiencing to me, he didn't… until today. Formerly, what aided me to any diagnosis was his friend Saotome Ranma, he gave me what information he knew and that's how for the first 4 months I started treating him for a personality disorder, medications were useless to say. Two months ago I diagnosed him with paranoid schizophrenia, still at hand with Mr. Saotome's provided information. Like I explained, the medications worsened and even created new mental issues he didn't have."

Dr. Wakaki continued, "Jazz is being more open to me now that I'm interested in this entity- Aksel. And simply by hearing by how intensively _real_ is this entity to him is what gave off he could suffer from psychotic schizophrenia. He is certainly delusive, hallucinating to an alarming degree."

Dr. Yomaho nodded, "He came in…" he made a circular motion with his hand, "Against his will?"

"Yes, through a Baker Act. Saotome Ranma legally pursued it."

"I see. One question, with the pills he took two months ago, did his recurrence of seeing this entity lessened?"

"No," he moved his head, "the pills I used for his paranoid diagnosis didn't cover delusions and hallucinations. The new prescribed ones do."

"I see, meaning that if he takes them he should stop seeing him that often."

"Yes, but I'm just doubtful. Jazz only sees this person- Aksel and he only hears _him,_ he has a steady relationship with him. True, he is hearing someone who isn't there, he is looking at someone who certainly isn't there. Classic right? Schizophrenic. But when have you've seen a psychosis such as this? If he was fully displaying schizophrenia he would see shadows at least. He would see more, hear more… not as exclusive towards a single entity."

The other doctor, who even after all that information, didn't look as convinced, questioned, "What about the crisis he had in the middle of the session? I bet he was hearing strangers' voices and feeling paranoid, isn't that a classic sign from a schizophrenic?"

The older doctor scoffed, "No, the Haloperidol, the medication I have gave him for two months caused it. These crisis, as you call them, are new to him, he even asked me what those were." He grabbed the bottle of Haloperidol he had for display, "These are elusive medications, how he reacted to them is how a sane person would react to any atypical antipsychotics."

"How would you know it's the pills' fault and not his developing illness?"

Dr. Wakaki threw the white bottle of pills for his colleague to catch, "Read the secondary effects. It is all written there."

"You mean that two months ago his only hallucination and delusion consisted in a single nonexistent person? Equally still, he might still be schizophrenic."

"He is?" Dr. Wakaki sounded upset, "He isn't matching anything we have studied and I'm certainly clueless… I'm destroying this man with every new pill I give him. He is a perfectly normal guy just for the fact he is watching, talking and touching _one_ person that isn't there." His forehead creased, "it's like if he was really watching a ghost."

"Being this just _one_ doesn't make it less of a clear symptom," the younger doctor offered "I would suggest you to further research, or…" he shrugged, "Sometimes getting to the right diagnosis doesn't mean it's treatable… maybe it's some sort of dementia."

"He is 19. Plus, I've tested him for dementia already."

"I know Wakaki it's just…. I mean I'm convinced and at the same time I'm not. Like, you can't diagnose him without at least recognizing 5 common or normative characteristics of the illness. He has 2 or 3 but still he has these, affecting him very strongly" He leaned on the doorframe, "and these 2 to 3 symptoms don't fit in any other profile or criteria, I understand that."

"Yeah, thank you. That's exactly my frustration right now." He stretched, "For today, I'm mainly treating him with antipsychotics, I should at least help him in something. He should stop seeing him at least… _that_ frequently….."

"I hope so," Dr. Yomaho hesitated for a while, "But what if…. maybe the testing wasn't as…. proficient?"

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe the analysis isn't complete, I mean- Did you check for infections? Virulent pathogens? Drug or alcohol abuse? Hormonal disorders? Sleep patterns? Thyroid disease? Meningitis? Did you check for his medical background? Family history? Did you get an MRI scan to check for a brain tumor? Do you have an electroencephalogram? Do you have a blood test?"

Dr. Wakaki chuckled almost silently, "You are speaking with an old psychiatrist son. What do you think?"

"I mean that you don't have to be a newbie to forget som-"

"I've been treating Jazz for six months now. Don't you think I already tested him for biological, neurological, hereditary causes? My response to every single prospect that you've asked is 'Yes, of course I have' and none of them are close to be a possibility."

Dr. Yomaho raised an eyebrow, almost accusatorily, "You said in your protocol tape that you didn't have some areas of his brain tested."

"If you heard my recording well, then you'll notice that I said I needed to test him for cranial areas that could explain his memory-loss, and that regardless finding any failure in such areas, they would still not be close to explain his consistent delusions. As well as I remember mentioning that the butterfly ultrasound would stand for medical decorum."

Dr. Yomaho sighed apologetically, "Alright, I'm sorry. I'm not arguing, I'm just saying that maybe you shouldn't get desperate, there are tons of possibilities that could explain it all." He dipped his head explanatorily "Maybe he is schizophrenic, but maybe and very unfortunately, it has collided with a mood or personality disorder, maybe he is suffering from schizoaffective disorder. Dr. Wakaki, with all due respect there are many other things that may trigger delusiveness and strong hallucinations, even psychotic episodes."

"No personality disorders. I've stated that."

"Bu-"

"I'm not struggling to diagnose Jazz with schizophrenia, I'm struggling to understand why his symptoms- are though clear, very selective in imagery. A schizophrenic sees, senses and believes things that aren't there or aren't true, that is clear. But _usually_ , they see nonsense, absolute chaos and usually their visions, delusions or hallucinations are disordered and very jumbled, repetitive or inconsistent, not to mention they widely vary from one psychosis to another. Jazz is seeing a specific, patronized entity and aside from this particular entity, Jazz sees _nothing_ else."

"Yeah," Dr. Yomaho sighed dejectedly "However, you know the human's brain is really complex. Maybe your diagnosis is correct and though it's something you've never seen, like the wide autism's spectrum that varies from person to person, it's just happens to be an altered type of it. After all, you know that schizophrenia is _very_ unexplored and misunderstood."

He continued, "Just go on with normal schizophrenia treatment, I don't think the psychotherapy or any antipsychotic can worsen him."

"Wrong. Those prescribed pills can- in fact, worsen him. I've proven that already. I can't play with my patients' stability, especially his, a person that highly requires it to function."

"Then rely on the hospital, there's nothing you can do, and let him be transferred to an internist psychiatric."

"They'll just electrify him," he exhaled, "I just can't give up on him." Dr. Wakaki lied back on his seat and finally closed his binder, his eyes determined with stillness as he spoke, "I'll go on with the treatment and see how it goes. At least you are right in something, psychotherapy can't worsen him."

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	8. Chapter 8

**Third Person's POV**

A hushed stumbling was subtle underneath its concrete walls, the neighbors would never suspect that the trashing against the floor meant that he was laying on it, hair fanning beautifully and the stressed scowl on his face only revealed he was being lustily fondled by an unearthly figure who roared angrily at what he said he heard at the hospital. Jazz's legs were open, in between his inner thighs was Aksel's kneeling form. He felt vulnerable, divested out of his underwear and sweating in anticipation as two wet fingers pushed one more time past his tight ring of muscles.

Mutedly, his mouth unleashed a hot gasp, Jazz closed his eyes, fevered, frebile by the tangible sensation of Aksel's fingers now prodding firmly against his prostate. –sweet God it felt so good- It had to be real, the anger underneath those languid pushes had to be real, Aksel's warmth had to be real. Jazz realized he couldn't be _that_ insane.

"Try breaking free or tell me you want more." The option was given but Jazz didn't feel as if he had it in him to take none; he bit his lip and concentrated in the authenticity of the situation, he tried denying his legs weren't trembling because it felt corrupted and barbarically wicked, delicious and real; he smiled past the biting, _"mmnn"_ he let a delighted humming slip past his mouth as his lover's long fingers twisted in the right angle.

"You sure I'm not here?"

Jazz moved his head 'no', his fist came up to his own lips and he muffled another pleased groan with the back of his hand, he could not further deny that the ferocious pleasure wasn't only a byproduct of his ill mind, Aksel pulled his fingers out only to shove them back in. _"How tight."_

 _"Mmf"_

Aksel's free palm pushed down against Jazz' navel to keep him in place, his fingers kept pushing delicately in and out of the the warm cavern as the perspiration started moistening their skins. Jazz' eyes remained closed as he groaned, his body was starting to tingle in blissful blister and the unmistakable urge told him that if Aksel didn't stop his lewd touches then he wouldn't last much longer.

His hands went up and placed on each of Aksel's strong forearms, silently pleading him to stop and follow with what both burningly desired. Aksel huffed cravingly, though feeling drunk with lust and resentment, he agreed to comply and heed to where his impulses drove him. He watched cautiously as he slowly pulled his dampened fingers out. His hands on each of Jazz' thighs prevented from letting him close them out of reflex, he thought Jazz looked delectable. A sly blush appeared on his cheeks and the pain from his hardness made him stare almost roguishly at the awaiting pink bud that shuddered at the lack of invasion.

Jazz propped his weight over his elbows and watched with sultry huffs as Aksel got rid of his shirt to showcase his built-in abdomen. Jazz chuckled, his slender legs opened invitingly and the redhead smirked back as he threw his own underwear to his left. Aksel looked hard and to be fair both were ready as they could get.

Aksel was flawless. _"You look fucking hot"_ Jazz mumbled in covetousness, the back of his knuckles were suggestively bitten as Aksel's hardened head probed teasingly against his puckered bud, the circular motions electrified each of his limbs, making him graze his other hand's nails against the wooden floor

"Is this what you want?"

" _Uhh…"_ Jazz hissed as Aksel shoved in- _impossible-_ Jazz thought as pleasure misted over his grip on reality, it was simply impossible not to believe in their carnality _"mnn yes…"_ Jazz' head lolled back in exasperation, his shoulders tensed as the filling sensation boiled his skin to scorching sweat.

Aksel's own bottom lip was trapped in between his teeth. His eyes masted sultrily as the warmth engulfed him. He pushed in gently as Jazz' lips parted in another breathless moan. For all he could think of, Jazz had an exquisite aroma that he could not get enough of.

He licked his lips in fervent longing as his swollen length went fully inside, _"Jaaz, speak to me…"_ his hands traveled impishly up of smooth skin and swiftly they came to each of Jazz' hips to hold him in place as he finally resolved to move. Jazz pushed his toes hard against the floor and after the invasive pressure turned into hot pleasure, he moved his head to the side, mostly to avoid eye-contact out of shame. He tried to regain composure and breathe in as a red heat scalded his skin.

" _F-fuck."_

After two minutes of pure gasping and panting, Aksel allowed the soft stretching thrusts to become more solidified plunges that rammed deep in his lover's sensitive insides. Jazz' hands searched for Aksel's cheeks as he brought him down for a passionate kiss. _"mnnn like that…"_ their mouths glued to the corner of each other's as another wave of loud breathless huffing followed.

Jazz' bellicose eyes opened to peek at Aksel's pleasured expression. He was real, he repeated to himself, Aksel was real, his blushing was real, his eyes that were filled with the sky, fogged by haze, beautifully dangerous and real- he repeated, _so real._ His lips wet and its pigment was richer by the kisses that were so mindlessly pressed to them.

 _Real._

 _Just real._

There was an everlasting fire between the air they gasped as Aksel moved to propel deeply in and almost out of his entrance, Jazz closed his eyes, he would get lost in their fire again, fuck his therapy, fuck his mind and more overly, fuck his illness. There wasn't a way he could try convincing himself that Aksel wasn't making love to him.

Jazz groaned as Aksel's rod brushed teasingly at the side of his sweet spot, not quiet reaching it but causing pleasurable sensations that overwhelmed him. Another thrust missed the target but was still welcomed with heavy spurts that leaked from his own hardened member. It felt delicious.

"Not hesitating now?" The rough voice was too clear, the member pulsing inside was too hard and the warmth was irrevocably _alive,_ Aksel's hands caressed his hips to later move Jazz' legs widely apart, as far as he could go, the rhythmical thrusts toughened and quickened as desperation started flooding their heads.

" _No mnn…"_ Deliberately surrendered, Jazz' spine arched as the redhead went momentarily out to kneel and take a steadier position. He carefully lifted Jazz to slowly impale him back down. The solid shaft pressed right where he needed it _"God yes."_

Jazz lifted his head from Aksel's shoulder and he smirked as his hips pivoted beautifully and very sensually on top of him. Jazz' wore his straight purple hair down without any braid and the profuse sweat from their act provoked it to be damp and close to his dolly features. "God."

" _Agh, there…"_ The youngest groaned as he fisted his hands through Aksel's orange locks. Aksel watched candidly as his lover's raspberry-stained lips fell to breathy moans for more.

Jazz' eyebrows creased in desire, the affectionate hug between their dishevelment only solidified the strong bond they created long before intimating, _"Just there…"_ Jazz insisted as the closeness started getting delectably overpowering.

" _mnn shit."_ Jazz bit his own lip again, sturdy thrusts had him wavering against the hard muscles upfront, his legs broadened for more space and his nails scrapped keenly at Aksel's back, _"hah ah"_ his frown displayed vindictive pleasure and his overall senses were clouded by the stimulating shoves that hit firmly on his insides.

" _Look at me…"_ Aksel grabbed his chin and made both stare lustily at each other, " _can the nothingness do you like this?"_ he husked erotically gruff as his tongue lapped deliciously on Jazz' neck, with somber desire, he deepened the dense thrusts past his over's humid entrance.

" _mnn no…"_

" _Say my name then,"_ his gentle hand placed on the back of Jazz' neck and obliged a mightier request. _"Say it."_

" _Aksel… ah"_ his eyes rolled to the back and his toes curled as the head of Aksel's member pressed solidly against his prostate, _"fuck... yes."_ Aksel's fingers yanked his violet hair back to force their mouths to smash against the other's lips; their tongues savored what heaven tasted like.

The tightness down Aksel's member intensified with spasms as both grew closer to the edge, his hand placed closely around Jazz' leaking length, he moved his hand softly up and down on it, tweaking his thumb against his dripping head. Jazz' hands fisted again, he was just a second away from the brink.

" _Shit…."_ Jazz panted heavily, his sweaty forehead pressed against Aksel's equally humid collarbone's skin, his arms desperately affixed around Aksel's neck. _"ah, get on top I can't.."_

The alluded complied and quickly hovered on top. He huffed in delight as he placed Jazz back against the floor. Jazz' legs opened for him and quickly locked tightly on the redhead's hips. The pressure delighted both. Jazz' arms fastened on his forearms, Aksel's sweat dripped down to his his chin. _"I'm coming ugh."_ His head lolled back softly, his mouth parted to let escape a last pleasured sigh as he entered bliss. Aksel's hand swiftly grabbed his as the strong pours of release melted them down.

" _Holy fuck… mnn"_

" _Fuck."_ Aksel groaned as Jazz clenched down on him, a wet spurt splashed between their abdomens and Aksel gasped gruffly as he emptied his seed deep inside the only person he ever truly loved.

A cleansing feeling of satisfaction washed over their skin and both stopped fitfully against each other. Their entire bodies were profusely dampened in perspiration and the lock from Jazz' legs around his hips didn't ease the boiling steam between their sexes, it was too hot to breathe.

After two laxative minutes, Aksel pulled out and laid beside him.

" _Ah… shit"_ Jazz gasped satisfied, as soon as he regained his composure, the anxiety returned "Don't fucking leave."

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	9. Chapter 9

_._

" _Ah… shit"_ Jazz gasped satisfied, as soon as he regained his composure, the anxiety returned "Don't fucking leave."

Their space closed again, Aksel brought him warmly close. outside their hug it smelled of humid soil and it could only mean the windows were open while it rained, Aksel's nose preferred to harbor on the crook of Jazz' neck, "I…. won't."

Jazz was still trying to recover his breathing, the ceiling seemed important, stillness reigned until Jazz couldn't further pretend he didn't know "How real is that?"

 _Reality_ , Jazz scoffed, how tiring was it to think about it all the time.

"Not so much."

Jazz nodded, he already knew it, he just didn't understand why it never ceased to hurt. He waited for both to sit on the floor and his hands toughly grabbed Aksel's face to later force eye contact, "Please," he begged, "Fucking stay. For once."

"I can't."

Jazz pushed him away, "Then fucking leave."

Aksel's hand didn't return the aggression, his hands reached for his body, easy on Jazz' hips and gentle to the skin, warm as they traveled up the curve of his waist, lightly caressing underneath his shirt and soft as his feathery caresses traveled up to Jazz' nipples, Aksel didn't respond, he only approached his body close and they hugged; Affectionately and lovingly, both became silent as Jazz realized Aksel was apologizing in advance.

He was right, Aksel wouldn't stay.

Jazz as predictable as his temper was, finally snapped and averred to hit his lover's arm. He recoiled hostilely from their silent hug, yet his body screeched for a lasting contact that he knew he would not get tonight "I told you to go away then," mostly resented, his eyes became nicks as he moved away from Aksel "and don't fucking return for once and for all."

Aksel came in close despite Jazz' intends to push him away. The redhead managed to trap his fists in between his hands before their lips desperately joined, Aksel's tongue slid tepidly over Jazz' bottom lip but separated too soon, -once again, _how real?_ Jazz wondered. Aksel turned around, dressed up quickly and walked towards the door.

"I'm real," Jazz closed his eyes as he heard his raspy, soothing voice, it was almost as if Aksel heard him think "I love you" Aksel walked back in and kneeled in front of him, "And that's real too." Jazz didn't respond but allowed him to get close for a kiss on the cheek. Aksel handed Jazz his blue-stripped hoodie and without any other word he left.

Tears of frustration brimmed at the corner of his eyes, it felt warm, it felt real, it _hurt._ Then why was he feeling distrustful with his own mind?

 _I'm fucking insane. Two words. Batshit crazy._

Once alone, Jazz huffed and stood up to put his underwear back on and after doubting it, he resolved to also put Aksel's hoodie on. He turned off every light inside his well-organized department and quietly made his way towards his spotless bedroom.

He walked through his dim-light room straight towards his bed. He groaned underneath the white sheets, he loved him, that's all he could think about. After more than half an hour of laying alone in his bed, he gave it a second thought and resolved not to let anyone decide whether the love-bites on his neck were genuine or not.

Whether they existed or not.

Sleep wasn't close to conciliate him but the nightfall's drowsiness had its' effect on him. Jazz breathed in Aksel's divine fragrance, the tingling within it promised the evermore for them and Jazz was definite that he wouldn't be as explosive anymore the next time he saw him. –A kiss, a deep one- that was yet another thing he would have. He would be gentler, he would kiss him deeply and he would return Aksel's loving words.

He just hoped that next time, Aksel would get to spend the night with him and he would finally wake up to see his face.

If only there was a phone number he could call... how he missed him.

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	10. Chapter 10

_._

" _There are days where I am haunted by a feeling that is blacker than the blackest melancholy. I have a contempt for humanity. I despise the people I have been fated to call my contemporaries. I feel suffocated by their filthy breath._

 _The man who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. I'm comprehensive. If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. I'm not afraid. Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler. I've become a prisoner of my lonesomeness, I miss the electricity that is hatred. I dislike to admit that I'm hollow._

 _I'm not sorry to be vacant. I'm sorry that I wasn't free.-"_

The words resonated sturdily in his head, there wasn't a day he didn't have the urge to butcher the evocative significance that held every written word for his eyes, for his heart and for his soul. Jazz wondered how he even lost his mind.

He then would corner himself against his darkest imprisonment and admit that he actually wanted to be sick.

He could not contemplate a world without him.

A world where he would understand that Aksel wasn't real.

A world that made sense. A world that was cruel. A certain Friday he woke up fully understanding it.

Ranma seated quietly beside him, he admitted to himself that this was the very first time he ever saw a human being outshine the sadness itself. Jazz had his hands over his face and he cried and sorrowed over someone who never broke his heart.

He stared and let his friend clutch his own mourning to excruciating cries of desperation. Of powerlessness. He just couldn't change what reality looked like and Ranma understood that was the agonizing part. The medicine worked after a couple of days, Jazz started commenting that Aksel didn't return from that last time they spend together, after two days into his disappearance, he said he had the eerie impression that Aksel wouldn't return and it suddenly ceased.

Jazz knew that somehow the love of his life was never close to be tangible.

It did make Dr. Wakaki happy. It just granted him a round of applause from his colleagues, more respect and further admiration. Ranma felt happier, his good intentions had fine results.

But Jazz didn't thank them, after all, it meant his own destruction. He was absolutely devastated and after a while… everyone who ever tried to help him convinced themselves that it would always go full circle.

Because Jazz didn't want to be as fine. Not with the price he would have to pay.

One day, Ranma dropped to visit him and he didn't find Jazz in his apartment. He felt paranoid, he knew, all too well what a mentally unstable person could do in deep grief, having experienced desperation with Youki himself didn't help him getting a clearer mind to look for any note.

Police officers arrived just 22 minutes after the first call and they assure him that Jazz was fine, he wasn't dead, he just ran away. Apparently, he left a tiny note where he promised he would be fine and that he wouldn't take those pills again, that those 'shitty pills' made him stop believing in things that were real.

Ranma noticed that Jazz left the medication behind and in the note, he said he was not alone.

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 **AN/**

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That was the end! Hope you enjoyed it. Alright so this was this Grey-fic and I promised romance so you had it a couple chapters ago. I would have loved to include more romantic scenes but they didn't fit quiet right. I will leave them for other one-shots. Also I wanted to finish this story today, because if I kept dragging it then I would have eventually throw it away.

I'm still working in other stories, next one will be pure fluff but like, this had romance in it I guess...

I'm tired of writing X-X I would have loved to comment on the meaning of this fic but it was so long that I'll leave it there, I think it was overly-explained.

So till next time.

Batya000


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